


Used To Light Up The Dark

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Series: MAMA Powers AR [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Reality - MAMA Powers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Warning: Kris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2018-03-11 12:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3326981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When SM markets their latest idol group as fantastic aliens from exo-planet who possess powers that mimic those of the Unknowables on Earth... they're not completely lying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Even years later, the way Baekhyun's mother tells it, it's all Baekbeom's fault.

"Yeah, he was supposed to watch me," Baekhyun says, twisting the cap off a fresh bottle of water. The seal zippers open with a loud crack. He takes a long swig and passes it off to Chanyeol before he continues. "I don't really remember—I was a kid, you know? So was he, even though he was a lot older." He shrugs. "He's been a good hyung, though. I hope he doesn't listen to her when she starts talking about that stuff."

"How old were you when it happened?" Joonmyun asks gently.

Baekhyun taps his chin thoughtfully. "Four? Five?" He laughs like he's belatedly remembering the punchline to a very funny joke. "Baekbeom never even told them he'd lost me at the park until weeks later, when the fuses started to blow every time I cried."

Jongdae's eyes light up with recognition. "I made the entire neighborhood dark after a fight with my parents once." He grins. "It was so cool. I—"

"That's enough, guys." Across the dance studio, Jaewon claps his hands together. "Back to work."

 

The thing is, the disappearances had been happening for years before anyone figured out what was happening. And it was hard to tell the difference between the 'normal' ones—the kids wandering off, the abductions, the absent-minded parents—from the others. And really, after you've been through the scare of a missing child, you don't really think about where they've been, just where they are now: in your arms, safe.

The Unknowns also played very safely. Abductions of a child over the age of six was unheard of. Much older than that and they start to tell the truth, start to become credible. A four year old who talks about a big blue spaceship gets a pat on the head and a smile.

Or, at least, they used to. Folks keep their doors locked and their children close by a hell of a lot more than before.

 

Joonmyun insists on taking them out to eat after practice. Jongin's sore and rubbing at a spot at the small of his back until Yixing knocks his hands away.

"Let me."

Kris grabs Yixing's wrist and shakes his head. "You can't do it here in the street. Nobody's supposed to know, remember? When we debut, as far as the public's concerned, we're just regular guys using the concept to sell albums."

Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose. "I still think they're going to figure it out."

"They'll definitely figure it out if someone catches us using our powers in the alley next to the SM building," Minseok points out. "Kris is right. You alright, Jongin?"

"Fine, hyung." Jongin nods tiredly, eyes blinking slow. Jongdae slings an encouraging arm around his shoulders and Baekhyun falls in step on his other side, fingers splayed against the spot where Yixing's hand had been. He can feel the heat radiating from Jongin's skin, even through the material of his t-shirt. He thumbs it, heart jerking in his chest a little when he sees the way Jongin presses his lips together and exhales. He wishes for a moment that he could trade places with Lu Han just long enough to figure out how much discomfort Jongin's actually biting back for the benefit of the group.

The street light they pass flickers and burns out with a pop. Baekhyun's grateful when no one says a word.

 

EXO's an experimental group in more ways than the public can really grasp. The idea of promoting the same songs in two different languages simultaneously is alright and the public eats it up but it's not the real reason EXO comes into existence.

Something happens to Unknowables, something during the abduction—it's more than just the powers. They seem more like payment, a bonus. Something to compensate for the childhood taken from them. The skills become more finely-honed. They grasp things more quickly. They're special—set apart from the others.

As a result, Unknowables dominate the trainee/idol demographic. Nobody knows exactly how many Unknowables are out there—some bury the secret deeply, try to succeed without placing the added expectations on their abilities—but with the latest wave of recruits, it's got to be more than half the rookies out there. Baekhyun's got his suspicions about Taemin, that wispy friend of Jongin's who interrupts their rehearsals to demonstrate the choreography after fifteen minutes of observation only to skip away, a cheerful smile pasted on his face. (Baekhyun tries to get Jongin to talk about Taemin's powers but Jongin always clams up when they start speculating as to the status of any of their labelmates and sunbaes).

It's not illegal to be an Unknowable but there's definitely a stigma. Backlash has been more present in recent years. The more intolerant members of the rest of the population's dubbed them Unforgivables—the word's become something of a slur ever since a tabloid had run with a headline that vaguely alluded to Lee Min Ho's status as an Unknowable (unconfirmed, even to this day). Public acknowledgements of a positive Unknowable status are rare. There's certainly never been an entire group of them (not that anyone's aware of, anyway).

So when SM markets their latest idol group as fantastic aliens from EXO-Planet who possess powers that mimic those of the Unknowables on Earth... they're not completely lying.

It's a little tongue-in-cheek. One of those things too incredible to believe. Too risky. No way Lee Sooman would risk his entire company with a stunt like that but hey it's a neat gimmick, it'll probably sell some records.

Baekhyun thinks about the first time he couldn't control his power at school, during an exam in middle school, the lights flicking on and off with each click of his pen. He acutely remembered the sting of the eraser hurled in his direction, the sharp pointed trainer-clad toe of the boy sitting next to him as he kicked Baekhyun's ankle and whispered, "you're a freak" so loudly that the whole class giggled. The teacher didn't even turn around although Baekhyun knew he heard it and it was then that he realized what the rest of his life was going to be like, how difficult it was going to be to live as an Unknowable in a Known world.

He thinks about getting caught. They're tempting fate, flaunting it out in the open like this. Rumors are bound to spread, old classmates who might remember him and remember the incident and come forward to post online about him.

It's only a matter of time.

He doesn't sleep a lot at night.

 

"Where's Jongin?" he asks the next morning at breakfast. Kyungsoo looks up, bleary eyed and pale. His chin comes to rest on his fist, tiredly blinking up at Baekhyun's puzzled expression.

"Went home to see his parents," he says quietly. "He'll be back later."

"Must be nice," Chanyeol announces loudly, dropping into the seat next to Kyungsoo with a heavy thunk. "I wish I'd been lucky enough to get teleportation. What am I supposed to do with fire?"

"Learn the art of smoke signals?" Jongdae cracks. This elicits an eyeroll from the entire table (except for Zitao, who looks torn between amusement and confusion until Lu Han whispers in his ear and he laughs). 

"Learn how to cook?" Sehun suggests.

"I can already cook. And fuck you both very much, you're so helpful."

As if to prove a point, Joonmyun silently crooks his index finger and narrows his eyes. A stream of water exits the pitcher in the middle of the table and deposits itself neatly in his glass.

"Show-off," Chanyeol mutters, holding out his palms to get a better look at them. The flames licking around his fingers are golden and orange. Baekhyun stares at them, mesmerized, until he feels his eyes slide out of focus.

 

It feels like it's taken for fucking ever to get to debut that when it's finally here, Baekhyun keeps pinching himself to wake up. On days when he's feeling brave he reads the comments online and laughs at the speculations about taking so long to learn the choreography. Bullshit. It's been a struggle to control their powers since day one. It took Kyungsoo the better part of a month to learn how to execute a particular combination step without splitting the floor in two and another month after that to do it consistently.

Orders come down from the big man himself that they need to start taking this experimental drug—W-0L4—to try and suppress their powers. "It's too risky," they're told when they try to protest. "You're still not ready to harness the energy into your performances." Finally, an ultimatum: take the fucking things or get the fuck out. Their beds back in the dorms won't even have a chance to get cold before they're filled by a fresh set of hopefuls.

"What's the point of a group with superpowers if you take away their powers?" Sehun grumbles. He's been out of breath a lot lately, ever since the twice-daily pills started. "Why not just pick regular Knowable idiots?"

"Seems like it'd be cheaper," Kris agrees, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. He'd been using his ability to fly to visit his mother on the weekends and seems resentful to have the right to choose when and where to use his power yanked right out of his hands.

The drugs work, although they're not without side effects. Yixing seems dreamier, more laid back; Lu Han develops a voracious appetite and starts assigning food-related nicknames to the rest of the group—usually, whatever he's craving at the moment, although with Minseok it's always _baozi, baozi_ until Minseok drags him along to a food cart on one of their days off and stuffs him full of the dumplings. He vomits into an alleyway, looks back up at Minseok with desperate eyes and croaks: "Baozi."

So, that one sticks.

Baekhyun feels his temper is shorter than it ever used to be. He snaps at Kyungsoo for the first time just before Christmas, shoves him into the wall because he won't stand aside in the hallway to let him pass through on his way to the bathroom. Jongin comes in and stands at the sink next to Baekhyun while he's brushing his teeth, eyes reproachful and sad. "Hyung," he murmurs. "I know. Me too. But don't—don't fight, okay? There's just us twelve. Nobody else knows what this is like."

Baekhyun instantly feels ashamed of himself, trails out into the hallway to find Kyungsoo and apologize. Jongin's right (as usual—even if it hurts to hear sometimes). That's what he'd loved the most when he arrived at SM. He found a family, an entire community of Unknowables who made him feel more like he was just plain Known and that felt pretty good.

He tries harder to suppress the annoyance, looks himself in the mirror every night and reminds himself it's the chemicals, that he's not really like this. He is Byun Baekhyun and he is light and he can illuminate a room with the snap of his fingers or the smile on his face.

 

"Do you think the Unknown are pissed?" Jongdae asks late one night. They're on an incognito convenience store run for junk food, a rare night to do with as they'd like. Baekhyun looks down from the ledge he's been walking on, arms outstretched like he's on the balance beam. Jongdae's face peers up at him from underneath the hood of a sweatshirt.

"Pissed? At what?" Baekhyun frowns.

"Us. The company. For taking away our gifts. It's like we're spitting in their face, saying we don't want them." Jongdae shrugs. "I'd be mad, is all I'm saying."

"I never really wanted it," Baekhyun admits. "Sometimes I wish I could put it on pause or give it back without having to take these pills."

"Sometimes it's cool, though," Jongdae points out. "Sometimes it's worth it."

"Yeah," Baekhyun agrees. He puts two slender fingers together and snaps. Nothing happens. His face falls as he remembers—oh, right. The inhibitors. He's suddenly overcome by the feeling of loss, like he's left something behind. "Sometimes."

 

"Puberty was the worst for me," Chanyeol says later, sprawled flat on his stomach across the floor. "Everyone else was worried about their voices cracking and popping inconvenient boners and I'm just trying not to give people third-degree burns."

They all laugh.

"I'm serious! I took this girl out and ended up setting her hair on fire. I've never been so humiliated in my life."

"How about every day you set foot in the dance studio?" Kyungsoo deadpans. Chanyeol flings a handful of shrimp chips in his direction. Yixing rescues a few from the carpet and pops them into his mouth one at a time.

Baekhyun thinks back to high school and remembers the boners and the way his voice just flat-out disappeared like a bad case of laryngitis before it rasped its way back to his vocal cords a full octave below where it'd been before. But he also remembers what Chanyeol's talking about, the way he could feel the electricity creeping underneath his skin but couldn't control when it'd spark from his fingertips and burn out every light bulb in a ten meter radius. It got better his last year, sort of—started focusing all of his energy into music and performing with his friends. His worn-out body was too tired to make trouble for him.

He looks across the room to Sehun, head slumped against Lu Han's shoulder, and wonders if he's missing out. The kid's still growing like a goddamn weed, shoulders getting broader every day. He eats enough for three people—but he's been on the inhibitors like everyone else, hasn't had to deal with the complications from his powers as much as the others did. He certainly looks glum, face contorted into varying degrees of a perma-scowl at any given time of the day. Joonmyun says he's like that even in his sleep— dreams heavily, forehead creased into an angry v. Baekhyun can't tell where the sulky teenager ends and the suffering Unknowable begins (if he even exists at all).

He sees it in Jongin, too—the way the baby fat's melting from his round cheeks, leaving behind a sharp jawline, a handsome face. He sleeps a lot lately—doesn't seem to be getting much rest, though, eyelids always heavy and half-shut whenever they're commuting somewhere before two in the afternoon. Baekhyun's read the fine print on W-0L4, though, knows that insomnia and waking dreams are a pretty common side-effect. He's tried bringing it up to Jongin before, keeps offering for Jongin to come and sleep in his bed if he needs to, but the kid seems determined to get by without being coddled. The way his face lights up when he's looking at someone, though—that's all Jongin, lonely and desperately reaching past the haze of the medication in his system to catch hold of someone, bring them back in to where he is.

"I liked puberty," Lu Han says, bringing the conversation back around. Jongdae makes a joke about filthy minds which has Lu Han blushing when he retorts, "Don't be jealous just because it's easier to recognize my kind of people this way."

"Hey. Everybody's my kind of people. I don't discriminate." Jongdae grins.

 

Baekhyun's never found a particularly useful outlet for his powers, but they've always made him feel special, which he supposes is useful enough. He's never had to worry too much about self-esteem— _I'm made of light, motherfuckers, you can't touch me_ —but without the powers he feels _dull_ , boring.

"I wonder if this is what it feels like to be Known?" he wonders aloud when he's forced to climb up the bed frame to change the lightbulb in the bedroom he shares with Chanyeol. "Everything you do takes so much longer. What a waste of time."

"They don't really know the difference," Chanyeol points out from the doorway. He'd elected not to assist Baekhyun, despite the fact that his height probably made him better-suited for the task. "Can't miss what you never had in the first place."

Baekhyun jumps down off the bed, socked feet hitting the carpeted floor with a loud thump. "This sucks."

As if on cue, Joonmyun passes by, looking for all the world like a nurse in a sick ward with the white paper cups he's holding. "Bedtime snack?" he jokes dryly, like they've got a choice. He hands one to Chanyeol and another to Baekhyun and watches the pair like a hawk as they reluctantly tip the pills into their mouths.

Chanyeol swallows with a pained grimace and brushes past Joonmyun in search of water. Baekhyun takes a little longer, breathes through his nose while he tries, again and again, to swallow the damn thing.

"You need a drink?" Joonmyun asks after the third attempt ends with Baekhyun retching the pill back into his outstretched palm, a gruesome leash of saliva trailing from his hand back to his lower lip.

"Nah. I've got it." Baekhyun shakes his head, closes his eyes, and swallows hard. He feels the ghost of its path down his esophagus long after he's managed to get it down. Even his body's fighting him on this now.

 

The thing is, Baekhyun's generally been a good kid. He likes to have his fun, sure—but the harmless kind: jokes, pranks, things like that. When it comes down to responsibilities, though, Baekhyun toes the line. He's never considered for a minute _not_ doing exactly as he's told, especially after he's signed a contract giving away the right to make a single decision for himself anymore. He wears the shirts he's handed, says the things they script for him, smiles on cue. Baekhyun does his best to be a good idol and hopes he's not fucking up too badly when a radio show host asks him about their powers being real and he does a spit take into the microphone.

So when Kris disappears at the end of January, he has to read Minseok's text message six or seven times before he comprehends the magnitude of what he's just been told: _Kris hasn't been taking the inhibitors for weeks now. Says he won't come back until they say he doesn't have to anymore._

He shows Chanyeol right away, who takes away his phone and brings it to Joonmyun, who's received the same message. The six of them huddle in the room Joonmyun shares with Sehun. Nobody dares look at each other—nobody wants to admit they'd secretly wanted to do the same thing. Kris—Kris, though, he'd been the only one brave enough to do anything about how increasingly unhappy he'd become.

Baekhyun texts Kris a few times. "Hyung, are you okay?—Hyung, we're not mad, we're with you—Hyung, please. I hope you're not locked in a basement somewhere. Text me back. I want to know you're okay."

Kris responds to the last one. "Basement? Control your imagination, Baekhyun. I'm fine. I just can't do this anymore. I don't think any of us should."

Joonmyun calls Minseok and puts him on speakerphone and they crowd around it. Baekhyun wishes he could reach through the phone and pull the remaining five boys through it, bring them back from China, put the family back together while they figured out what to do about Kris. Jongin probably could manage it if he weren't being suppressed.

"It's—he's been really pissed ever since the airport incident," Zitao offers lamely. "He was really mad."

"We all were," Kyungsoo says quietly. His hand finds Jongin's knee. Jongin dips his chin to his chest, obviously embarrassed at the attention.

They're referring to their trip overseas back in January, when Jongin had been shoved into a barricade by an overzealous fan, aggravating his waist injury. It would have been an easy fix for Yixing, a gentle push from the heel of his hand to draw out the pain and it would have been good as new—back before debut, anyway. Instead, Jongin clung to Baekhyun's torso for support, breathing slow and steady to fight back the tears. Baekhyun'd been glad for the inhibitors in that moment—he wasn't so sure the anger he was feeling wouldn't have taken out all of the runway lights at Incheon.

"Ever since then, though—he's been saying we shouldn't have to take them anymore, that the company should trust us a little bit." Minseok's voice crackles a little bit over the connection. He clears his throat and waits for the static to clear before it continues. "That there's no point in having an entire group of Unknowable idols if they're not openly Unknowable."

"Openly?" Sehun's mouth is hanging open. "But hyung—"

"Our careers will be over," Chanyeol finishes grimly. "This is all I've ever wanted to do, guys—I really don't know if I can go back to college and get a real job. I'm not cut out for it. I need this. I think we all do."

Kyungsoo looks contemplative. "He's got a point, though." He looks around the room, catching everyone's eyes in turn. "Wouldn't you have felt better if you knew growing up that there were some idols that were just like you?"

"I would have." Yixing's disembodied voice floats through the room softly. Joonmyun looks torn between anger and sympathy, eyes wide with desperation.

"Guys," he says quietly. "We _can't_ , you understand? Not ever. Even if someday they let us have our powers back—the world's not ready for that yet. South Korea's certainly not."

"Well. Let's start there, then. Let's get our powers back," Minseok returns. "See if we can manage to control everything without needing to use the inhibitors. Because I think Kris is right. Whether or not we reveal our powers publicly, I really don't think we can go on like this for much longer."

"What—just stop taking them? Just like that? They're going to know." Chanyeol gapes. It's not an attractive look. Jongin reaches out and pushes his jaw closed with two fingers.

"I'm not going to tell them what I'm doing," Lu Han says. Baekhyun can picture the look on his face, the fiery way his eyes flicker when he's been pushed one too many times and doesn't have the patience to be tolerant anymore. "Nobody noticed Kris had stopped taking them and started flushing them down the toilet. I suggest we do the same."

"I don't know," Joonmyun says reluctantly, lips pressing together in a thin line. "What if it doesn't work? What if it's too hard to hide our powers from everyone?"

"Then we'll start taking them again. Nobody'll have to know. Just—we need to keep talking to each other," Minseok urges. "We can't hide this from each other. If you feel like you're losing your grip, don't be a hero. Just—take them. There's no shame either way."

Baekhyun feels an excited thrill of fear race through him when Joonmyun hangs up the phone and looks around the room at the rest of his group. His face is set, the same determined expression he gets when they're being dragged across the coals by Jaewon for fucking up their choreography for the hundredth time in a row.

"Are we all in agreement here, then?" he says after a minute. "It's got to be all of us or we're not going to do it. We have to be together on this, no matter what." Sehun looks up from where he's been playing with the tag on his pillow and nods.

"I—I don't like them, hyung, they make me feel weird."

"Yeah, weird," Kyungsoo echoes. "Me too."

"Me three," Chanyeol chimes in. "Plus, they're killing my coordination. I'm an even bigger threat on the dance floor than I was before."

"It's true, he is," Jongin says. "I'm in, too. I want to be able to see my family more."

Five heads swivel to look at Baekhyun intently, their eyes curious: _well?_ they seem to say. He swallows hard and even though his chest is laced so tight with panic he's having trouble breathing, he manages to eke out a brief nod.

"Yeah," he says, voice gravelly and unsure. "I want to go back to how I used to be."

 

W-0L4's still officially in its trial phase so there's not a lot of information about it when Baekhyun types the chemical name + withdrawl symptoms into Naver and scrolls through. Nothing jumps out at him. Nothing pertinent, certainly—a few press releases buried in a few medical journals, some bullshit PR from the drug company about it being the safest inhibitor for Unknowables who _just want to have a higher quality of life_. He scoffs at this. Higher quality—for who? The Knowables? Who gives a shit about them—they're not the ones being forced to hide a fundamental part of who they are just to make the rest of the world comfortable. Fuck them. Fuck them all.

He's officially been off of it for two days. He feels like a troublemaker for the first time in his life, the rebellion delicious when he and Chanyeol accept their morning pills from one of the managers and hide them under their tongues until it's safe to spit them into a napkin. He seems to have escaped any severe withdrawl symptoms. He doesn't notice much—a weird crawling sensation under his skin sometimes when he's lying in bed at night that almost feels like he's covered in spiders (which is fucking gross but seems to pass if he concentrates on other things to keep his mind off of it), but other than that—it's been fine. Smooth sailing, all things considered.

Chanyeol's not been so lucky. His mouth goes dry after the first twenty-four hours and no amount of water seems able to sate his thirst. He sets up camp in the kitchen in front of the fridge, chugging water straight from the pitcher before it's even had a chance to cool down. Baekhyun finds him cross-legged at two in the morning, bathed in the white, sterile light of the fridge. Chanyeol looks up when he hears Baekhyun pad in and makes a face, sticking out his tongue to expose a long, deep crack that runs up the center. It looks like the earth after a long drought.

"It fucking hurts," he mutters, cringing a little as he closes his mouth. Baekhyun lowers himself to the floor next to him and sighs.

"What are we going to do?"

Chanyeol holds the spout of the pitcher against his lip and tips his head back. A stream of water dribbles out of the corner of his mouth and down the front of his sweatshirt. He doesn't pull back until the pitcher's completely empty and his clothes are soaked.

"Did you even get any down your throat that time?" Baekhyun reprimands him gently, rising to his feet to refill the pitcher. Chanyeol wipes his chin off with his sleeve.

"Yeah. It—it all helps. I feel like I'm burning up." He pushes up onto his knees. "Hold on. I've gotta pee again."

"I'm not surprised." Baekhyun twists the cold water faucet and stands with his hand underneath it until it's cool enough. He fills the first pitcher and goes searching in the cabinets for a second one that he puts back in the fridge. The light bulb makes a quiet popping noise as his hand passes by it and he stares, nearly brought to tears by the familiar sound.

"Do you think they'd let me have a catheter?" Chanyeol's voice comes from the door frame. It's muffled slightly by the thermometer he's got pushed under his tongue. Baekhyun snorts.

"You already dance like you've got a tube shoved up your dick. I don't even know if you could actually walk if you had one for real. Come here. What does it say?" He holds his hand out for the thermometer just as it beeps. Chanyeol hands it over obediently. He's running a serious temperature.

"Maybe I shouldn't go to practice tomorrow," Chanyeol moans, slumping back against the bottom cabinets. "Tell them I'm sick. Tell them I'm _dying_. Go on without me." Baekhyun shakes his head fiercely.

"We've got to keep going like everything's alright. Until we prove that we don't need the inhibitors to control our powers, we have to pretend like we're still taking them. We can't make them suspicious, even for a minute."

"You don't think this is going to make them suspicious?" Chanyeol asks, pointing out his dry sweatshirt. The heat radiating from his body had been enough to dry it out in the short time he'd been gone in the bathroom. "Besides, Kris isn't back. What are we getting ready for? There's no group to even have a comeback at the moment."

Baekhyun looks back at the thermometer and shrugs. "If this works, he'll be back in no time."

Chanyeol sets his face into a stern expression. "Hey. Be honest with me right now. Do you really think this is going to work?"

"Yes. I do." Baekhyun refuses to meet Chanyeol's gaze.

 

Jongin disappears during rehearsal the next day. It's only for a few seconds but it's still scary as fuck to watch. Jaewon's got his back turned just long enough that he doesn't notice the outline of Jongin's body go foggy and dissipate for a moment before he zaps back together and completes the pirouette he'd been in the middle of executing. Baekhyun feels his heart climb up into his throat and settle there.

"Good job," Jaewon says absently, still not looking. He's more focused on Chanyeol, who's completely sweating through his t-shirt and _still_ can't manage to roll up onto his knees fluidly enough for the beginning of _Wolf_. They've been working on this part for the past hour and if anything he seems to be getting worse. _Is it possible to un-learn choreography the more you do it?_ Baekhyun wonders, watching Chanyeol flounder on his knees for a moment before he topples, hands outstretched to break his fall.

Joonmyun catches Baekhyun's eye in the mirror and mouths to him: _"What the fuck?"_ Baekhyun turns to watch Jongin. His expression doesn't betray a thing but Baekhyun knows him well enough by now, sees the broad pad of his thumb pressing into the middle of his lower lip the way it always does when he's nervous and trying to ground himself. He looks to Sehun, whose eyes are stretched wide like he's forgotten how to blink. Kyungsoo takes the initiative and coughs loudly into his fist.

"Hyung, can we have five? I really need a drink."

Jaewon frowns. "Drink fast. You can have two." He turns back to Chanyeol who's already making a beeline for his water bottle at the edge of the floor and points. "Not you."

"But hyung—" Chanyeol sounds parched, like he's fighting off the worst sore throat of his life. Baekhyun winces with sympathy. He's probably dying right now.

"You can have a drink when you can do this three times in a row without falling on your face." He shakes his head. "You're happy when you do it _once_ , Chanyeol. Don't do it until you get it right. Do it until you don't get it wrong."

God. Jaewon's fucking mantra. Baekhyun's heard it a million times already and thinks his eyes will roll right out of his head if he hears it again.

"You're killing me here." Chanyeol scuffs his toe against the floor mulishly. "I'm going to die of dehydration."

"If you don't want it badly enough, then yeah, you are." Jaewon claps his hands. "Now go. One more time."

Baekhyun takes the opportunity to grab Jongin by the wrist and pull him out into the hallway. He doesn't let go even though he _knows_ there's nothing he can do to keep Jongin here if his body decides to teleport him without warning. Baekhyun'd probably end up coming along for the ride and then they'd both be screwed.

"What the hell happened?" he asks, trying to keep the frantic tone from edging into his voice. Jongin mops at the sweat trickling down his face wearily with the bottom edge of his shirt.

"I don't know. I wasn't really thinking about anything in particular, just how tired I was—and then all of a sudden I was in my room back at the dorm—and then I was back here again."

Baekhyun nods slowly. "So the inhibitor's already wearing off for you, too."

"Yeah." Jongin rubs at his lower lip again. "It never used to be that easy to teleport before. It's almost like—I don't know, because it's been so long, I'm hyper-sensitive to the suggestion." He laughs. "I know that sounds stupid."

"Your body knows you need rest." Baekhyun puts a hand on Jongin's shoulder. "Are you sleeping any better now that you're not taking anything?"

Jongin shrugs. "Don't really notice a difference. The whole thing might just be a coincidence."

Joonmyun pokes his head out of the studio. "Guys. Break's over. Get back in here." He looks at Jongin. "You okay? You need a rest? Because we can say your waist—"

"No," Jongin says firmly. "I'm fine. I just need to get it together." He flashes a wide smile and Baekhyun sees the old Jongin lurking in the corners of his eyes for just a moment before the smile's gone again.

 

Baekhyun texts Kris that night, hoping to get some answers. He's taken aback when Kris actually _calls_ instead of responding with terse one- or two-word messages that don't really tell him anything.

"You're serious?" Kris breathes. He sounds so close, like he's right next door even though Baekhyun knows he's across the Pacific right now. "You guys stopped?"

"Yeah. We're—you were right. This is stupid and we don't want to suppress it anymore. We're behind you, hyung," Baekhyun says.

"Wow. I—wow." Kris can't hide the admiration in his voice. "I'm proud of you."

Baekhyun feels his chest swell with pride. "We are one, hyung."

There's a long pause on the other end of the line. "Fuck, that was cheesy. Apologize right now or I'm never coming back."

Baekhyun laughs and feels something loosen inside of him, like the huge weight of debut's starting to lift with every moment he gets further away from the last dose of inhibitor he'd taken.

 

"Mine's still not back yet," Kyungsoo confesses the next morning in the bathroom. Baekhyun's hand pauses mid-brush, mouth still full of toothpaste.

"It's only been a couple of days," he says finally, spitting into the sink. "Give it some time. Sehun's only just came back last night," he points out. It'd scared the shit out of Joonmyun when a dozing Sehun had rolled over and sighed, prompting every book in the room to fly off the bookshelf and scatter on the floor like a tornado had passed through. It frightened Baekhyun, too, who had been lying awake trying not to think about spiders again when he heard the commotion and was out of bed in an instant to see what was happening. Sehun slept through the whole thing, even the forty-five minutes it took for Baekhyun and Joonmyun to clean up the mess he'd made.

"Yeah, I know." Kyungsoo leans forward to look at a pimple on his jawline in the mirror. "I'm not worried it's coming back—it's more like _when_ , you know? I don't want it to be like Jongin's thing. He's fucking lucky that Jaewon didn't see him teleport."

"I know." Baekhyun runs his toothbrush under the tap for a moment and sighs. "Have you tried? You know, whatever you used to do to get it to work?"

Kyungsoo nods. "Nothing so far." He squeezes some lotion onto his fingertips and starts working it into his cheeks. "I just feel bad. You guys seem so miserable—Chanyeol looks like he's five seconds away from throwing himself off a building and Jongin keeps popping in and out in his sleep and I'm just—I feel nothing. Still."

"Don't feel guilty. It's not your fault." Baekhyun puts his toothbrush back in the holder and offers Kyungsoo a cheerful smile. "It'll come back soon enough and you'll suffer with the rest of us."

"Looking forward to it," Kyungsoo says, voice flattening a little. "Can't wait to start destroying everything I touch by accident." His eyes seem brighter than they were before, though, buoyed by Baekhyun's encouragement.

 

Kyungsoo's concern turns out to be spot-on, albeit premature by a few hours. He's skipping down the steps of their building on the way to the van when he leaps down over the last two and lands with a slam so loud it sounds like a truck backfiring halfway down the street. He looks down at the cracks in the pavement forming his feet, then back up at the rest of the group, an expression of panicked shock frozen on his face.

"Shit," he whispers. "What if—what if that happens again? It took me forever to stop damaging the floors before, and I don't—"

"It'll be fine," Chanyeol dismisses a little too quickly. "Come on."

Baekhyun texts Kris in the van on the way to SM even though it's sixteen hours behind where he is right now, something he'd forgotten to ask the night before: _How long before u got back 2 normal?_

They're in vocal practice all morning and Kyungsoo settles enough that his hands stop trembling every time he lifts them away from his thighs to adjust his earpiece. Baekhyun can tell his mind's elsewhere, though—he misses his high note in _Mama_ by a spectacular interval that has everyone cringing. Kyungsoo apologizes sheepishly, cheeks flushed red. "Think I caught whatever Chanyeol's been fighting off," he lies. It's close enough.

Before they get to go home that night they're given a scolding that nearly makes them cry: "You guys need to focus. You're blowing things you should already have down. We'll double your schedule if that's what it takes to get you guys to shape up."

Kyungsoo apologizes to everyone as soon as they're out of earshot like it's entirely his fault. Chanyeol squeezes his shoulders and tells him not to worry so much. Baekhyun sees the dark circles starting to take up permanent residence under Chanyeol's eyes and thinks he needs to take his own advice a little more.

Jongin's face is drawn and sullen when he crawls into the van and takes the seat next to Baekhyun, head dropping onto his shoulder in quiet defeat. "We're so fucked," he whispers when Baekhyun pats his knee. "This was a bad idea. We're going to be caught and kicked out, I just know it."

"When was the last time you teleported?" Baekhyun asks. "Like you did the other day, I mean. Without trying to." Somewhere deep in his backpack, he hears his phone vibrate.

Jongin shrugs. "Kyungsoo says I've been doing it in my sleep."

"But while you're awake?" The phone hums again, sounding like a trapped bee. It sounds like it's lodged somewhere between his spare pair of sneakers and his water bottle.

"Nothing." His eyes fall to the bag at Baekhyun's feet. "Hyung. Your phone."

When Baekhyun fishes it out he's relieved to see the reply from Kris. _A week, I guess? Not that long._ He forwards the message to the rest of the group with an extra _^^;;!!!_ and settles back against the seat, arm slung around Jongin's shoulders, watching the others check their notifications one by one and break into relieved smiles. A week. Somehow it seems easier to deal with, knowing that there's a light at the end of the tunnel. It's not a totally unmanageable span of time to endure as long as everyone does their level best to hold on.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time the rest of M (sans Kris) moves back to Seoul, the only person still struggling with controlling their power is Jongdae, who brings several out-of-season thunderstorms to the city within hours of arriving at their new dorm when he discovers they'll be stacked three or four to a room instead of two. Baekhyun thinks he'd probably be concerned if he weren't so amused. Minseok joins in to cover Jongdae's tracks, turns the thunderstorm into thundersnow. The boys crowd around the window in the living room and watch Minseok's work settle over the city, white fluff accumulating into a powdery blanket as far as the eye could see. It makes the evening news that night.

Baekhyun calls Kris that night for a status update, sitting cross-legged on Chanyeol's bed. Minseok and Zitao are across the room, listening.

"They said they're willing to renegotiate," Kris says. "If I like what they have to say, I'll be back by the end of the week."

Chanyeol lets out a whoop so ear-splittingly loud that Baekhyun has to thump him in the chest to get him to shut up before he wakes up the managers and gets them all in trouble. That's just what they need.

"I'm not coming back unless they say it's okay for you, too," Kris insists. "I'm not—you know, this isn't just about me, this is about all of us. Our rights as Unknowables. We're making money for them because of these powers, they can treat us with a little more respect."

"Kris-hyung is so awesome," Chanyeol says excitedly when they're all back in their own beds trying to get to sleep. "I hope he comes back soon."

"Me too," Zitao says quietly, voice muffled by his pillow. "I really miss him."

"Baekhyun?" Minseok asks. "Can you—?"

Baekhyun's been practicing selective control of the lights in the dorm, trying to be more precise when it comes to directing his power. He waves his index finger in a tight circle and the bedroom lights turn themselves off. The beam of streetlight still cuts through the crack in the curtains, slicing the room in half.

"Thank you. And good job," Minseok adds, almost as an afterthought. "Your practice is paying off. You're really getting better at this stuff."

Baekhyun grins to himself, pleased at his progress and even more pleased that somebody's noticed.

 

In the time K and M have been separated, Zitao's developed a nasty habit of searching through websites looking for mentions of EXO and its members. Joonmyun tries taking away his phone a few times but it's futile—he insists he's just keeping a finger on the pulse of the group's reputation for the sake of damage control (he's also been browsing through a lot of fanfiction, some of which he reads aloud to the group until Chanyeol threatens to light him on fire if he doesn't shut the fuck up or find some porn that doesn't star anyone he knows).

Baekhyun, on the other hand, never wants to know what people are saying. He's been tempted to respond the few times he's stumbled across gossip in forum comments. Anytime there's an accusation regarding his height it takes every bit of self-restraint inside himself to correct the assumption that Jongdae's taller than he is.

So he's a little annoyed when Zitao shakes him awake half an hour before their alarm, shoving his phone into Baekhyun's face. "Hyung—look, somebody's saying something about your powers being real."

He sits bolt upright, nearly breaking Zitao's nose in the process. "Where? Give it to me right now." Zitao's pupils are blown wide with shock in the dim half-light of dawn.

"Halfway down the page."

It's not much—some stuff from a person claiming to be a former classmate although Baekhyun can't imagine who the fuck this could possibly be. _I had classes with Baekhyun in high school, it reads. Lots of funny things happened with the lights. I don't think the power concept is a gimmick. His is real._

The responses, at least, are encouraging. Netizens seem quick to dismiss this particular post, asking for proof that Baekhyun was ever a classmate, scolding SM for choosing a concept that breeds delusional fans, even going so far as to suggest that the person who posted the original comment was an Unknowable, probably biased towards Baekhyun and desperate for validation. _Oppa won't love you if you're an Unforgivable. It's just marketing._

His jaw tightens at that last one, feeling upset on the poster's behalf. "We should show Joonmyun," he says, kneeing at Zitao's thigh to get him off his bed. "I hope this doesn't blow up. It'll shoot any chance of Kris coming back straight to hell."

"I'll keep an eye on it—they're already on the next page, though. Talking about your shoe lifts," Zitao teases, a feline smile curling across his face. Baekhyun rolls his eyes and flops back against his pillows.

"I think I liked it better when you were in China," he mutters. "Go bother someone else for a while. I'm going back to sleep."

 

It doesn't feel right knowing that they're shooting music videos for their comeback and Kris still isn't back. Sehun wonders out loud if they're rushing the shoot on purpose just in case Kris never does come back. Kyungsoo smacks him so hard for this speculation that Baekhyun swears he feels a jolt of pain radiate through his own skull.

Lu Han's heavily featured in the storyline and as a result spends significantly more time on set being instructed on what they're looking for in each scene. He comes over during lunch when the rest of the boys are scavenging from the craft services table and whispers as quietly as he can, "They're thinking about Kris. It's a good sign—they've got a scene sketched out for him, just in case."

"Do they know if he's coming back?" Joonmyun asks, hiding his mouth with his napkin when he thinks the director's looking over to them.

"Everyone's operating under the assumption that he is," Lu Han says, picking at a thread on the uniform he's been wearing the past few days. "I think they know something we—well, you, I guess—don't. He'll be back," he murmurs encouragingly, helping himself to a heaping plate of food. "I feel it."

 

Lu Han's right, of course: Kris does come back. Baekhyun's overcome with relief when he walks in the door, suitcase in hand, and kicks off his shoes. It seems so uneventful now that it's finally happened—he returns with the same fanfare he probably would have received had he just snuck out to the corner store to bring back some beer. The floral slip-ons add to the mountain of footwear already piling up next to the coat closet but it looks right, finally, with those stupid things perched on top, contributing to the mess.

Zitao immediately chokes up, eyes watering. Yixing waves sleepily but can't stop the dimple in his cheek from deepening, corners of his mouth upturned in a shy smile. Kris's head pans from left to right around the kitchen table, takes one look at everyone and shakes his head.

"When I left, you all had normal hair. What the fuck happened? Red, Taozi? Really?" He looks at Joonmyun, nose upturned in mock disgust. "You let them do that to him? It's a good thing I came back. This group needs a leader with some fashion sense."

Zitao laughs through his tears, a weird, choking sob that prompts Jongdae to abandon his breakfast and wrap his arms around him.

"What about you, hyung?" Sehun asks, drawing attention to Kris's own close-cropped style. Kris shrugs and runs his hand through it.

"I was sick of hair getting in my face when I flew."

"I was surprised you bothered to pay for a plane ticket and come back the old fashioned way," Joonmyun remarks. Kris raises an eyebrow and Joonmyun smiles, eyes crinkling. "I had Zitao keep tabs on you. You know, just in case. He's better at that kind of thing."

"I can't decide if that's creepy or touching."

"No reason touching can't be creepy," Lu Han points out. Jongdae buries his face into the crown of Zitao's hair to stifle his laughter.

"Hey. As the co-leader of this group, I think it's important I know what's going on in your life. Even if I have to use teenage girls and Zitao to keep tabs on you." Joonmyun winks. "We're a family, remember?"

"Are mom and dad fighting?" Chanyeol asks slyly. Kyungsoo chuckles. Jongin does a spit take, sending a fine spray of banana milk across the table.

Kris looks up at the ceiling. "Remind me again why I came back?" he asks the smoke detector. It blinks green in reply.

 

So preparation finally begins. Baekhyun wonders what the fuck the past few months have been for—everything shifts into overdrive. Days get longer, schedules get harder. Kris stumbles through old choreography looking like a wounded bumblebee, completely dead on his feet when he staggers through the door at the end of the night.

The Super Joint Concert in Thailand is the first time they've performed together as a group in front of an audience in months. The first time since Kris's return. It's clumsy—Baekhyun catches Kris trip out of the corner of his eye, mouth set in a grim line. He knows he's not in sync, knows he's got the most work to do—and there's only so much your powers can compensate for when your muscles seem to have forgotten everything they ever learned.

There's a frightening moment backstage where Jongin starts going transparent. Baekhyun reaches out and puts his hands on his shoulders to steady him, whispers, _think about being here_ and Jongin solidifies again, eyes grateful when they swing upwards, searching for Baekhyun's face in the dark.

"Thanks, hyung—I'm just so tired—"

"I know. We all are," Baekhyun soothes. Jongin leans his head on Baekhyun's shoulder and starts to fade out again. Baekhyun angles his body as a shield, rubs his fingertips together so the lights dim just a little bit more and hopes nobody notices that you can see right through EXO-K's lead dancer.

The exhaustion seems to be fucking with their ability to keep their powers in check. Minseok freezes the pipes in the dorm one agonizing morning and it takes an hour of fiddling and careful thawing from Chanyeol's palms before they're able to shower again. Joonmyun tries to fill his water bottle with his eyes closed—something he's done thousands of times, something he's been doing since he was a kid—and misses completely, drenching himself. Baekhyun finds him sniffling in the back stairwell and doesn't know what to say when he's dealing with his own problems. The wiring in the dorm seems fine, but every time he catches five minutes of alone time and puts his hand on his dick, the lights in the entire building surge. It's embarrassing. Everyone knows when he's trying to relieve some tension.

"If this keeps up, they're going to find out," Kris warns tiredly when Sehun gets into an argument with Jongin and dumps the contents of the bookshelf onto the floor again. Sehun looks sufficiently contrite, mouth turned downward in a deep frown.

"I can't _help_ it, hyung—it's not like I'm trying to make a mess, it just kind of—happens."

"I think your power would be more useful if you could blow the books back onto the shelf," Chanyeol cracks. "Right now, you're just a destructive force."

"Not _just_ ," Sehun mumbles, grouchy. "That's not fair."

Baekhyun stays up late that night just to get a chance to shower by himself and take a breather. He's been on edge with everyone all week—Chanyeol's been worst of all, for some reason, every little thing he says and does getting under Baekhyun's skin in the worst way. He feels bad: Chanyeol's his best friend. But when you're living under the same roof, fourteen people crammed into a dorm like so many sardines in a can... well, he just wants to open his eyes and _not_ be face to face with one of the other group members.

He doesn't even get his wish in the shower. He's letting the conditioner sit in his poor, bleach-ravaged hair for an extra few minutes (it's futile—there's no way to undo the damage SM's stylists have done) while he tries to masturbate, hoping an orgasm will cheer him up just enough that he doesn't try to throttle someone when he goes back into his bedroom. He's leaning against the wall, forehead pressing so hard into the tile it's probably going to be a while before the impression of grout crisscrossing the skin fades—and suddenly there's a quiet pop, the sound of air and water separating to make room for a body that hadn't been there moments before.

Baekhyun jerks back, startled. Jongin's standing right there, half-clothed, palm grinding against his own erection. His eyes nearly bug out of his head and he starts to go fizzy again around the edges when Baekhyun reaches out and stops him, acting on an impulse he didn't know he'd been harboring until exactly that moment.

"Hyung," Jongin whimpers, skin flickering. He turns his hips away to shield the tent in his sweatpants, every muscle in his body rigidly self-conscious. A pink flush settles into the apples of his cheeks, eyes averted with the embarrassment of being caught with his hand down his pants. "Let me go. What are you doing? I'm still dressed—"

Baekhyun swallows the rest of his protests with a decisive slant of his mouth. He focuses on the curve of Jongin's lower lip, the smooth push of Jongin's tongue against his teeth. Jongin kisses lazily, like he's going to fall asleep at any moment, eyes half-lidded, hands settling heavily against Baekhyun's shoulders. He pulls back after a moment and spits to the side, nose wrinkled.

"Gross." He sticks his tongue out. "Soapy."

"Shit. Sorry." Baekhyun wipes at his face and looks at the fine bubbles collecting at his fingertips like he'd forgotten his hair was still full of conditioner. Jongin guides Baekhyun into the stream of water and runs his hands through the stiff, blonde mop, nails digging into his scalp until the water runs clear. Baekhyun closes his eyes, soothed by the gesture, and lets his head drop forward to rest his forehead against Jongin's shoulder.

"My clothes are soaked," Jongin murmurs after a moment, crossing his wrists around the back of Baekhyun's neck. He doesn't make a move to teleport out of the shower, though—doesn't even lift his feet to try and exit the old fashioned way, even though his pants are saturated, heavy with water. Baekhyun hooks a thumb around the waistband.

"You want me to—"

"Yeah." He swallows, the click of his throat loud in Baekhyun's ears. "Yeah. I do. Please."

Baekhyun sinks to his knees, pulling the sweatpants to Jongin's ankles. Jongin obediently steps out of them, kicks the soggy garment behind him and stands, foot tapping with nervous impatience. The ridges of the bath mat dig into Baekhyun's knees. It's almost uncomfortable if he pays attention to it but he busies himself with the sensation of Jongin's toned thigh under his roaming palm, the swell of his ass, the warm spray of water drumming against his back. The humming of the ceiling's fluorescent light crescendos, bathing the bathroom in a harsh, white light that cuts through the glass of the shower door. Jongin laughs.

"You going to be okay? Or is the whole place going to blow?"

Baekhyun nods, takes a deep breath through his nose. The light settles. Baekhyun takes his time, noses experimentally at the underside of Jongin's dick, runs his tongue along the seam where his thigh joins his hip just to feel Jongin squirm in his hands.

He's vaguely aware of the implications of this— _encounter_ —as he presses his tongue against the slit of Jongin's dick, hand loosely fisted at the base. Jongin gasps like it's being dragged out of him. There's a voice in the back of Baekhyun's mind, warning him—this isn't something he can just walk away from, consequence-free. This changes things.

"I—just letting you—sometimes I disappear—" Jongin pants, voice hoarse. "Don't freak out if it happens. I can't—control it, but I'll—I'll come back."

Of course.

They're having enough trouble keeping their powers under wraps without— _this_ , without the added complications of sex and hormones and— _what if he starts blowing fuses every time he starts thinking about this?_ Baekhyun feels his own cock twitch against his belly, still hard from before. He wraps his spare hand around it and pulls a few times to ease the ache, groaning right into Jongin's skin as he comes (it's got to be a record, he thinks—he's never come that quickly before, not with just his own hand). The light surges again and Jongin's amused chuckle drops from his parted lips, barely audible over the hammering sound of the shower. 

Baekhyun's painfully aware that he's giving a fucking sloppy blow job. His technique's shitty and he knows it. He tries to remember what he's seen in porn and takes as much of Jongin as he can without choking but if it's really all that terrible, Jongin doesn't seem to mind. With all the noises he's making, Baekhyun thinks he's probably pretty close. He drops his jaw and runs his tongue along the ridge underneath the head, uses his other hand to squeeze just a little too hard. Above him, Baekhyun feels Jongin buckle a little, one hand braced against the wall in front of him, other hand gripping at the nape of Baekhyun's neck like it's the only thing keeping him upright.

"Fuck," Jongin manages, voice strangled and tight. "Do that again."

Jongin's breath comes out in stuttered huffs when he comes, teeth sinking into his lower lip so hard to stifle his moans that it takes a moment for the color to return. Baekhyun rocks back on his heels to lean over and spit the mouthful of Jongin's come into the drain.

When he turns back around, Jongin's gone. 

He waits for a moment, rubbing his poor knees. Nothing—no familiar crackle, no warm body appearing in front of him.

There's a knock at the door. He jerks up, nearly concussing himself on the tap as he scrambles to turn off the water and climb out of the shower.

"Hold—hold on, I'm—give me a sec."

"Hyung. It's me."

Baekhyun wraps a towel around his waist without bothering to dry off properly, tracks wet footprints across the floor. "What the hell?" he asks, eyebrow raised as the door swings wide. Jongin's standing there looking sheepish, sporting a fresh pair of boxers. His hair's still wet, trickles of water pooling against the ridges of his collar bones. "Where'd you go?"

"I'm—sorry, I just. I told you that happens sometimes." He looks down at the floor, suddenly shy. "After I phased out, I just kind of wanted to put some pants on."

Jongin's sudden attack of modesty startles a laugh from deep within Baekhyun's chest. "Sure," he says.

"But—uh. Thanks." Jongin's mouth widens into a satisfied grin, but he still can't quite manage to look Baekhyun in the eye.

_Me too, actually,_ Baekhyun thinks, muscles loose and relaxed. That'd been exactly what he needed to relieve the tension of the past few months. He puts an encouraging hand on Jongin's shoulder as he brushes past. "Anytime. And hey—don't forget your stuff's still in the shower. You're probably going to want to throw that in the dryer."

"Hyung," Jongin protests, voice rising in a half-whine. "You're not going to do it for me? You're the one that made me stay in the first place."

"Hey, I know how your power works. Don't play innocent—you're free to leave anytime you want." Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows at the dismayed look spreading across Jongin's face. "Night, Jongin. See you in the morning."

 

After the most restful few hours of sleep Baekhyun's had in months, he wakes up to the sound of Kris and Joonmyun arguing in the kitchen. He wanders in, rubbing at his eyes with a balled fist, surprised to see he's the last one to breakfast. Everyone else is circled around the table, eyes riveted on their two leaders.

"—you didn't _tell_ them?" Joonmyun demands, arms crossed over his chest. "I thought the fact that you were back meant that this was over for all of us, not just for you."

"I did too! Do you think I'd really screw you guys over? You're family—"

"You have before." Joonmyun cuts him off, gaze steely and unwavering. "You think you were being a great leader by running away from us? For what? Because you missed flying?"

"Fuck you," Kris says quietly. "That's not why—this is wrong, Joonmyun, and you know it. We never should have agreed to it in the _first_ —"

"Guys!" Chanyeol puts himself in between Joonmyun and Kris, arms stretched wide. "Please. Stop fighting."

"What's going on?" Baekhyun whispers into Jongin's ear. Jongin turns his head slightly to look at Baekhyun, eyes wide with fright. He looks so fucking young like this—hair soft and mussed from sleep across his forehead, faint ghost of a pimple starting on his jawline.

"There was an accident." Jongin chews at his lip absently. "They're going to start doing blood tests for the idols that are supposed to be on the inhibitors. Just to make sure our levels are appropriate."

" _Accident_? What kind of accident? And what—weren't we okay?"

"Overdose. Jonghyun-hyung."

"He's—he's an Unknowable?" He feels faint. "What—how did we not know?"

"I knew," Jongin says awkwardly, burying his hands into the front of his sweatshirt. "He had the power to cause explosions. He—he was the reason SM started putting money into this inhibitor in the first place. Too risky to leave that power unchecked."

"What _happened_?"

"He's been having trouble with it. He'd be on a dose for a while and then his power would come back. They kept upping his dosage to—to try and stop that from happening. I guess it was too much. He blacked out behind the wheel on his way back to their dorm." 

Baekhyun feels his blood run cold. " _Shit._ Is he okay?"

"Yeah. He's going to be fine." Jongin manages a smile that's more sincere than not. "Car looks worse than he does. He's going to get that new nose he's been wanting for awhile, too."

"That's what they're fighting about," Sehun says from Baekhyun's other side. "Joonmyun-hyung thought when Kris came back, that meant we had permission to stop taking it."

Baekhyun closes his eyes. "Nobody—nobody talked to the managers?"

"Everyone's been busy with preparations—"

" _Shit,_ " Baekhyun says again. "Shit." He looks across the room. Joonmyun's sitting at the table, head in his hands. Kris is leaning against the counter, back squared towards the rest of the group. "What's—what's going to happen to us? I don't want—I don't want to go back on them." He catches Chanyeol's eye over the table and sees the desperation he feels mirrored in Chanyeol's downturned mouth, his raised eyebrows.

"We might not have a choice." Joonmyun's voice is muffled through his fingers. "We might be fired anyway for what we've done."

 

Baekhyun gets the rest of the story in spurts, after Kris stalks out of the kitchen and disappears into the bathroom with a loud slam of the door. Chanyeol stands over the sink eating a piece of watermelon, juice running through his fingers. "They'd—put Joonmyun in charge of distributing the medication. One of his jobs as leader—ensure the health of his group, you know?"

Baekhyun nods. "So they don't have any idea we've been off them for weeks." He feels ill, busies his hands by twisting the skin around his knuckles anxiously. "That means only Kris—"

"Yeah. His power wasn't deemed _threatening_." He laughs hollowly, letting his hands drop against the edge of the sink. "What they _agreed to_ was to re-evaluate our powers on a case-by-case basis and decide who gets to keep theirs and who gets to stay on the inhibitors. What Kris heard—" He shakes his head. "It's not his fault, I'm not mad at him, I'm just—fuck, detox was so terrible. I don't want to go back on them either, Baekhyun. But I control _fire_ —you really think they're going to let me keep it?"

Baekhyun exhales loudly. "Fuck," he says vehemently, smacking his palm against the counter. "Not like electricity's going to be on the safe list, either."

Chanyeol looks over at him. "Hey, are we okay? Maybe this isn't the time, because—well, the world's about to come crashing down on our heads. But you've—I don't know," he breaks off, laughing nervously. "You've just seemed really pissed off lately. At everyone."

"I'm sorry. It's not—nobody did anything, it's just me. I don't know what it is." He shrugs. "I'm really tired, and it just—it feels like we've been doing this forever. And if it's not—this shit with our powers, it's this comeback getting dragged out until the end of fucking forever—"

"You know you can always talk to me. I feel the same way about this shit." He closes his eyes. "It's exhausting. Living this way." Chanyeol nudges him with his shoulder. "Really. You'll tell me if you're not okay or if you need something, right?"

Baekhyun thinks for a moment. He's not sure what to say. "I'm with you guys, if that's what you mean," he says finally, choosing his words carefully. "I'm not going to let them put us back on the inhibitors without a fight."

"I guess that's good enough for now," Chanyeol says, dropping his arm around Baekhyun's shoulder. "But as your best friend, let me just tell you—I'm not going to let you be a grumpy old man forever."

Baekhyun shoves him away, but he's laughing when Chanyeol bounces back to return the favor.

 

Joonmyun comes into the room Baekhyun shares with Minseok, Zitao and Chanyeol just before they're due to leave for the day. He looks miserable. "Here," he says, pushing a familiar white pill into Baekhyun's hand. "Just take it."

Baekhyun stares at the pill for a moment, watches it rock back and forth gently in the gentle cup of his palm. The motion's oddly calming. He locates his voice. "No."

Joonmyun looks back over his shoulder tiredly. "Baekhyun, please. We really don't have a choice. They're going to do the test at the end of the week. It's still probably not enough time to build up the right levels in our blood stream, but it's got to be better than nothing—"

"No," Baekhyun repeats, sounding more sure of himself this time. "I can't do it. I _won't_ do it." He pushes his hand back towards Joonmyun, gesturing for him to take it back. "Don't worry, hyung. I won't tell them that you know a thing. I'll say I made the decision on my own."

"That's not—I don't care—" Joonmyun's eyes cloud over with concern, voice softening. "Baekhyun, come on—"

"Take it, or I'm just going to flush it down the toilet like I have with all the others." Baekhyun smiles, realizes he probably looks a little deranged with how hard he's forcing the expression. His cheeks sting. "Seems like a waste of the company's resources to just throw it out, don't you think?"

Joonmyun chuckles, shaking his head. Baekhyun knows he's won. Joonmyun has always had a soft spot for Baekhyun, always indulged his need to be flippant at the times when it's the least appropriate. He folds his arms across his chest but doesn't take the pill back. "What if they make you leave?"

Baekhyun shrugs. "I don't think they will."

Joonmyun watches him carefully, jaw tensing. "You think?"

"Honestly? I think they've invested into us too much—into this whole fucking concept—for them to throw us away just because the powers thing happens to be a lot more fact than fiction. And if they _do_ decide to fire me, well… I guess I'll be leaving on my own terms."

"If they fire him, they'll be firing me, too." Chanyeol comes in from where he's been eavesdropping in the doorway. Joonmyun looks taken aback. "I'm not going through that again. There's a reason we were given these powers in the first place, and until we figure out what the Unknown had in mind for us, I just—I don't think we should be fucking with our fate for the sake of someone else's bottom line." He's toying with a white caplet, twirling in between his fingers.

"Give me some time to come up with a plan, then," Joonmyun begs. "We've got a few days, and I—I don't want it to be over like this." Baekhyun feels a weight in the pit of his stomach, the unpleasant realization that if he walks out, he's taking something away from Joonmyun, erasing the past seven years like they hadn't meant a thing. He knows EXO was probably Joonmyun's last chance, that he was getting too old to be shoehorned into a group (and it hurts even more to think that he's considered _too old_ when he's still in his early twenties). After a slow start, he's coming into his own as a leader, has proved time and time again that he's worthy of the name Suho, of protector. Baekhyun's trusted before; he'll trust him now. He nods.

"That's fine," Chanyeol says. "I'm not in any hurry to let them know my powers are back. But—this isn't negotiable anymore. Whether I stay or I go, I'm done with the inhibitor." Baekhyun watches, forever in awe of Chanyeol's talent as he squeezes it and it bursts into flames and dissipates, leaving nothing more than a pinch of ash and a foul smelling vapor in its wake.

"Wow," Baekhyun breathes after a moment. "That was so cool." He pushes his fist into Chanyeol's face. "Do mine, too."

 

A memory: when Baekhyun first entered high school, he went to countless sessions with the school counselor, always under the guise of talking about his feelings, how he's adjusting to the new environment, his classes. All bullshit, mostly, and he wasn't stupid enough to think it wasn't, especially when the sessions started including questions about his powers, requests for demonstrations. He started skipping them and that's when the phone calls home started, always saying things like _maybe he belongs in a special school that's equipped to deal with his issues, with kids that are more like him_. His parents persisted, said the music program was the best available and Baekhyun's true talents had nothing to do with controlling light and everything to do with controlling his voice. He's thinking about that now on the drive into SM that morning, hands fidgeting in his lap. He's surrounded by kids that are like him, now, and he still doesn't feel like his best interests are being taken into consideration. Maybe he's been fooling himself this whole time, buying into his parents' encouragements. Maybe he can't pass as anything other than a danger to others, something that needs to be restricted, controlled. He moves his hand distractedly towards the window, watches as the lights in an entire office building flash and go dark.

Jongin looks back at Baekhyun from where he's sitting in the passenger seat up front, holds his gaze for what feels like an eternity before he's distracted by something Sehun's saying and he turns away. Baekhyun's cheeks burn, suddenly glad Lu Han's riding in the other van.

 

Joonmyun doesn't get the chance to formulate a plan. The dam finally breaks, and the story along with it, when Jonghyun narrowly avoids blowing up the entire hospital wing after the surgery to repair his nose. Powers are unpredictable, especially under the influence of anesthesia—there hasn't been enough medical research into the effects of controlling ones power, but the smoking room and the displaced patients are enough for the public to call for one. No casualties, much to the relief of every Unknowable who lives in fear of taking someone's life through an accidental discharge of one's powers, other than a slight burn on a nurse's arm (and the millions of won in repairs that SM's going to have to cover). SM tries to cover it up but there are too many witnesses, too many uncontrollable factors to account for everything.

It's too late. The damage's been done.

So it's out there now, the lead story in every news report: _SM: The Unknowable Company_ , pages upon pages of bylines and op-eds speculating who among the company may be harboring secret powers. The speculations are mostly correct. Baekhyun's a little impressed at their detective work. The focus falls heavily on EXO, the group that's been _marketed_ as a group of Unknowables.

"Is this SM's way of easing the public into the idea of Unknowables among us? Is SM striving for social progress? This is a dangerous agenda and they must be stopped," one blog post reads. Zitao's reading it out loud from his phone as they sit around the living room of the dorm. He's trying to make it funny by doing different voices for the comments but nobody's in the mood to laugh. Kyungsoo puts his thumb nail between his teeth and bites down hard. Minseok puts his hands over his ears to drown out the sound—he really doesn't care to hear the rest.

Old classmates come out of the woodwork to confirm the rumors. Baekhyun sees his name pop up over and over again, talking about suspicious power outages and vague recollections of strange electrical occurrences that seemed to resolve themselves when Baekhyun left the school. The photographs of Chanyeol with his fingertips ablaze taken by an ex-girlfriend are especially damning evidence ("I'm going to kill her," he mutters angrily, pulling out his phone to send her a text message before Joonmyun stops him), but they're nothing compared to Lu Han's ex-teammate who posts a novel's worth of instances where Lu Han's telepathy had served their football team in good stead. Lu Han goes pale and waves Zitao off after the second paragraph, excusing himself with a feeble explanation about having a headache and needing to lie down. Yixing follows.

It's everyone's worst fear.

Jonghyun texts Baekhyun: _I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen to you guys ㅜㅜㅜㅜ Is everyone alright?_

_We're fine. Don't worry about us. Just focus on your recovery! Taeminnie doesn't sound very good on your parts._

_ㅋㅋㅋㅋ I'll tell him you said that_

"What do we do now?" he asks after he's passed on Jonghyun's messages to the rest of the group. "They're going to call us in for a meeting. There's no way—this scandal is too fucking big. There's no guarantee we've even got a company to belong to anymore." He swallows, looking over at Joonmyun, whose face has gone as white as a sheet. "It's—this happened faster than I thought it would."

"Maybe this is a good thing," Chanyeol says, ever the optimist. He stretches his leg out in front of him, nudges a stone-faced Sehun with a socked foot. "The story's out there, now—it's not being dragged out, we don't have to lie anymore. Everybody knows. Now we can move on."

"You think just because they know now that they're not going to feel cheated? They've already been lied to. We betrayed every single one of our fans by going along with it," Kris says, voice cracking slightly with unbidden emotion. Baekhyun's surprised—it's the most he's heard Kris say since the fight. It's the most he's heard Kris say at one time _ever._ Kris takes a deep breath and continues. "This is what I was telling them months ago—I _said_ this would happen. Nobody likes to find out that they've been lied to, nobody likes to feel stupid. There were people that genuinely believed we were just pretending. And guys, no matter what, it doesn't change the simple fact that the public's just not comfortable with what we are."

"Besides. For all management knows, we're still safely on the inhibitors," Minseok points out quietly.

Chanyeol sighs. "Oh, right. That."

" _That_ is what's going to get us fired," Minseok continues. "After what happened with Jonghyun—everyone's power is going to be seen as a threat, as putting our lives and the lives of the staff and our fans at risk." He looks a little wistful. "So what we did—it goes from irresponsible to reckless. Just like that." He snaps his fingers. A frosty puff of air clouds around his hand for a moment, looking like someone's breath on a cold day.

"Well. If I'm going to get fired anyway," Jongdae says, rising to his feet, "I'm going to enjoy my last few days of freedom before I become a complete leper. Come on. I'm going to go get food." He grins. "We've been working hard. I feel like we've earned the right to have a little fun."

"Me too," Baekhyun agrees. "Not much we can do now—it's out of our hands. When someone makes a decision, we'll be the first to know. I don't want to sit around here and wait. Thinking about what might happen is driving me crazy."

Joonmyun looks reluctant, face still drawn with worry. Jongdae puts a hand on Joonmyun's shoulder and squeezes. "Come on, hyung. No matter what happens, nothing's going to change between all of us. We're a family now." He raises his eyebrows, a mischievous look creeping into his features. "And in _my_ family, my parents were always the ones who paid for dinner, so—"

"You brat," Joonmyun gasps, swatting at Jongdae's hip. "Is that the only reason you want me to come along with you? My wallet?" He can't hide the smile from his face. "Fine. I'm coming." He pulls himself up with the help of Baekhyun and Jongdae and looks around the room. "Why does this feel like we're going to our last meal?"

 

Nobody gets to sleep very easily that night. Zitao chatters on and on for what seems like hours (and, Baekhyun supposes it _could_ have been hours—he's been known to use his time control power as a subtle way of trapping people without _actually_ wasting their time—something Baekhyun discovered the hard way when he spent an entire afternoon being forced to watch _My Girlfriend is a Gumiho_ only to look at his watch after the fourth episode and see that a mere ten minutes had passed).

So Baekhyun doesn't really know what time it is when he feels the foot of his bed dip under the weight of another person—when he opens his eyes it's still dark, moonlight edging through the cracks in the blinds, illuminating Joonmyun's face one pale, thin sliver at a time. His eyes are dark, face pensive. The corner of his mouth quirks into a half-smile as Baekhyun studies him, face scrunching with confusion.

He squints and sits up. The mattress springs creak quietly underneath him. "Hyung? What are you—" He coughs, voice full of frogs, in an attempt to clear his throat. "Are you sleepwalking?"

"No, nothing like that," Joonmyun says, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. Across the room, Chanyeol rolls over. They tense for a moment like he's going to wake up. "I'm sorry," Joonmyun whispers when they're finally satisfied that Chanyeol's still asleep. "I just couldn't stop thinking about what you said—you know, about how shitty it was to wait? So—I called."

"What? You did? Really?" Baekhyun's throat goes dry at the revelation. "At this hour?"

"He was there. Everyone was. With this 24-hour news cycle, they've been on damage control since the accident." He sits back, leaning against his hands for balance. Baekhyun waits, thumbs twiddling in his lap. It's taking every ounce of self-restraint not to heckle Joonmyun until he starts talking again—he doesn't, because he's learned by now that it's best to let Joonmyun do things at his own speed. He knows this, but doesn't make the impatience burn any less. Eventually, Joonmyun takes a deep breath and continues. "I have to go in for a meeting."

"When?"

"Early. Seven."

"Jesus." Baekhyun swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He's wide awake now, heartbeat pounding in his ears like a bass drum. "Do you need me to come with you?"

"No."

Baekhyun thinks for a moment. "Let me rephrase that. Do you want me to come with you?"

Joonmyun chuckles, lowers his eyes to his kneecaps. "Yeah, I do. But that's not fair to you guys. This is something Kris and I need to take care of. It's—we should have been better about this in the beginning, you know? Ironed out the details."

"Are you guys okay?" Baekhyun asks, fidgeting a little with the edge of his bedspread. "You seemed so mad at each other earlier. It was kind of awkward—"

"I know. I'm sorry—we really shouldn't have behaved that way in front of you guys." The sigh that escapes from Joonmyun's nose is long and loud, like his lungs are being stomped on. "I think we're both just trying to figure out how to be leaders," he says finally, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. It's clear in the way his voice hitches that he's still a little upset with the whole situation. "We both made some mistakes that ended up coming back to hurt you guys. He—I just talked to him. We both agreed we need to try harder to keep the group's best interest in mind. Ahead of our own." Zitao murmurs something in his sleep and Joonmyun turns to listen, face softening when he recognizes the word _hyung_ amidst the slurring, hybridized speech.

Baekhyun nods. "So what's that going to be?"

"Hm?" Joonmyun looks back, distracted.

"What's in our best interest?"

"I think… we've proven that we can juggle idol life with having these—abilities," Joonmyun says slowly. "I think that we were very unhappy last year, and it showed in our performances. I think that regardless of what happened with Jonghyun, we should be given a chance to prove ourselves."

Baekhyun's spine stiffens. "You think they'll go for that?"

Joonmyun lifts a shoulder to his ear. "Worth a shot. It's the only thing we have left, really." His face is peaceful, now—no trace of the fear and apprehension it'd been clouded with earlier that evening. He sounds more sure of himself, as well.

Baekhyun composes his face into something resembling sincerity. "Not true, hyung. We'll always have each other."

"You idiot." Joonmyun strikes Baekhyun's neck with a playful karate chop. Baekhyun claps both hands over his mouth to stifle his hysterical giggling. His neck's always been the most sensitive part of his body. It's a true testament to the strides he's made with his powers, though—the lamp doesn't come back on, nothing starts glowing—the room's as dark as it ever was. Joonmyun seems to notice this, ruffles his hair with the playful ease of a big brother. A pleased smile curls across his lips. "Go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you. I just—needed to tell someone."

"No. I'm glad you did," Baekhyun says, wriggling down under the covers. "Are you leaving right away?"

Joonmyun frowns, pulling the top blanket up to Baekhyun's chin. "What time do you think it is right now?"

"I don't know—four? Five?" For the first time, Baekhyun catches a glimpse at the clock and petulantly falls back against the pillows. It's a lot earlier than he thought it was—still before midnight. "Fucking—not _again_. Are you kidding me? We fucking _talked_ about this—none of that shit without asking our permission first. I'm going to kill him."

Joonmyun pats Baekhyun on the shoulder, chuckling. "Don't do that just yet. We might end up needing him for this comeback."

Baekhyun harrumphs at this admonishment and flings a pillow over to Zitao's bed. It strikes him in the head and bounces to the floor. Zitao never stirs.

 

It's late in the morning, past when they should have been back at the SM building for rehearsals, when Joonmyun and Kris finally return. The rest of the group's already assembled in Joonmyun's room. They've been there in stony silence since six, since Joonmyun knocked on everyone's door and waved goodbye like he was going off to war. Baekhyun sits cross-legged on Jongin's bed, arms wrapped tightly around the pillow Jongin always sleeps with because he's too fucking jittery for anyone to touch him without jumping backwards a mile. Jongin respects this, keeps rubbing circles against the bedpost with a flattened palm and Baekhyun wonders, idly, if the surface has started to become polished with the repetitive action.

"So." Joonmyun shoos Kyungsoo off his bed and sits down heavily, hands clasped in his lap like he's got bad news. Baekhyun holds his breath. Those hands—he remembers seeing that gesture from his stupid counselor, fingers intertwined and squeezing tightly, right before he said something fucking dumb like _how do you feel when you can't control your power?_

_Helpless,_ he'd replied.

He's feeling similarly helpless right now. He sits up a little straighter, tries not to let the fear show in his face. He's not the maknae here, he can't—he can't lose his shit in front of everyone.

"Hyung, are we—"

"Let me talk." Joonmyun puts his hands up. Kris eyes the foot of Joonmyun's bed for a brief moment before he elects to settle down on the floor next to Yixing, ankles crossed. It looks awkward for a guy as tall as Kris to be folded up like that, all knees and elbows. Joonmyun watches until he's satisfied that Kris is comfortable and looks back around the room at the rest of the group. He shakes his head a few times.

"Well. We're definitely in trouble."

Across the room, Chanyeol sucks in a troubled breath against his teeth. The sound whistles so loudly a few heads turn, thinking it's Sehun. Sehun rolls his eyes.

"What, really? Come on, guys. Give me a little credit here." He frowns. "I haven't had an accident in weeks."

Joonmyun pauses until they've stopped talking. " _But,_ " he says finally, raising a finger to qualify his previous statement, "we're not being disbanded."

Lu Han lets out an excited whoop. Jongdae actually _claps_ for a moment before he realizes he's the only one and his hands slow.

"Turns out they, uh—they'd already figured out part of what was going on," Joonmyun says. "The electricity bill had something to do with it."

Baekhyun's face flushes hot with embarrassment. Jongin pats him on the shoulder consolingly.

"They didn't know we'd been off the inhibitors since the beginning of the year, though—I was actually surprised at how well they took that, considering." He shrugs. "I guess since we didn't have any real accidents, other than Jongin's tendency to disappear—it's not like we've technically done anything wrong, other than, you know, the whole disobeying orders thing. Which—brings me to my next point. Kris? You want to tell them?"

Kris rolls his shoulders to try and release some of the tension he's been carrying for weeks. Yixing slides his hand into the curve of Kris's shoulder and Kris seems instantly more comfortable, the scowl relaxing from his face. "Yeah," he murmurs. "We're—you guys don't have to start taking the inhibitors again."

Jongdae claps again. Kyungsoo reaches out and holds his hands together to get him to stop.

"But _why_ —why'd they change their minds?" Chanyeol asks, brow furrowed. "They seemed so against it before—and what happened with Jonghyun could've happened to any of us."

"I don't know that it could have. Or, I guess—if it was going to, it would have happened before we all decided to stop taking it." Joonmyun tips his chin thoughtfully. "W-0L4's still in its trial phases—Jonghyun's apparently got one of those metabolisms that processes the drug faster than normal. It's—it's something the company's looking into, I guess. See whether it's Jonghyun being a freak or something that can be explained by our powers."

Baekhyun chuckles before he can stop himself. "I think I've got an idea—"

Joonmyun silences him with a dirty look. "Baekhyun, seriously—we'll make jokes later, can we just finish this up? We're late for rehearsal as it is."

"We're still going?" Sehun whines. "But hyung—"

"Are you kidding me?" Joonmyun looks at him incredulously like he's sprouted another head. "Before we left, they gave us a schedule of things we need to finish up before we're given the green light for comeback."

A collective groan rises from the boys in the room. "More things?" Lu Han asks tiredly. "When are we coming back? Christmas of next year?"

"They've got to put us through some tests—see if we can back up what we say. They're going to see if we can handle a tough schedule without having an accident. If you don't think you can control your power—nobody's going to think less of you if you have to take the inhibitor again."

The room is silent.

"Anybody?" Joonmyun raises his eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Positive," Minseok says, looking around the room. Everyone's in agreement. "So what's next?"

"Damage control," Joonmyun says. "We've got an interview coming up with Ceci. It was supposed to be about our imminent comeback and it's still going to be about that, a little bit—but we're going to have to talk a lot about our powers. "

"Really?" Chanyeol gapes. "We're allowed to go on the record about them? None of this weird fake-power shit anymore?"

"At Lee Sooman's suggestion, yes. He's decided that we're going to lay low until the interview comes out—then we'll worry about the public's reaction to—you know, to this not being an act." He slaps his thighs to punctuate his statement and gets to his feet. "So—get ready for that, I guess. In a few weeks this is going to be the biggest thing to hit K-Pop in years—maybe even decades. There's never been a group of Unknowable idols." He beams proudly, eyes crinkling into tight crescents. "We'll be the first—ever. So, no matter what happens after this… we've already made history, guys. And I'm really, really thankful that I'm a part of EXO with all of you."

"Me too," Kris echoes.

"Oh, come on," Jongdae groans, breaking the mood. "So sentimental, hyung. You're killing me." Baekhyun thinks he sees the corners of Jongdae's eyes glistening as he turns around and pretends to look for something on his bedside table.

 

 

When Baekhyun was eighteen he told everyone he was going to be a singer. _I'll be famous someday,_ he assured classmates and teachers alike. _I'll be on TV and on every billboard in the city and you can say you knew me back before I debuted._

_But you're an Unknowable,_ they'd inevitably point out. _There aren't any Unknowable idols._

_That you know of. And besides, what does it matter?_

A hot, content satisfaction fills his chest when he thinks back on those conversations, remembers the wondering, dubious look on their faces and says to himself, _I made it. I beat the odds._ He's among the first generation of publicly-Unknowable celebrities. He's featured in blog posts and magazines for being a trailblazer, for making it okay for other Unknowables in the industry to come out from where they've been hiding underground.

"We're still going to do monthly evaluations," SM warns Joonmyun and Kris, who pass on the message to the rest of the members. "Just to make sure nobody's slipping. The inhibitors aren't off the table, especially for the more _combustible_ powers." It's stupid shit—a blood test, an evaluation with some self-described _expert_ on the Unknowables who makes them demonstrate their powers in a tiny, white room. The expert writes some things on a clipboard, asks a few questions about how they're coping and that's it—they're done for the month. It's all a colossal waste of time: it doesn't provide any useful information on EXO's powers—but, it keeps management happy, so Joonmyun insists that everyone participates with a smile. SM lists Baekhyun among the idols under their purview that they're keeping an eye on _for insurance purposes_ and Baekhyun's not sure he's ever going to be comfortable using his power in front of anyone outside the group for fear it'll be taken away from him again.

Jaewon's always watching rehearsals like a hawk, almost like he's waiting for someone to fuck up. He works them twice as hard as before (something Baekhyun hadn't realized was possible until he gets home and literally can't move because his calves are so sore), reminds them that they've got no excuse for not knowing this stuff anymore: _"Between the time you've had to work on this stuff and the fact that you've got your abilities back, I don't want to hear any excuses about why you're not getting it. Get to work or we're all staying here until midnight."_

So it's not over. It'll probably never be over. Baekhyun wakes up in the middle of the night and rolls over to check the news on his phone, always searching for something—for public opinion to go sour, for this whole thing to end just as quickly as it had begun. His fixation's a little unhealthy but he's just fucking _petrified_ that something's going to go wrong.

But so far, worst-case scenario's been the furthest thing from reality. So far, so good. He's not in high school anymore, times are changing. It's not a whole new world out there but the younger generations— _his_ generation—they seem excited at the differences instead of scared of them. Public opinion's been overwhelmingly positive despite the bad press SM had received during Jonghyun's scandal.

"Chanyeol-oppa," a fan says earnestly, the week they finally return with _Wolf_. "Can you really make fire?" She's small, probably eighteen or so, Baekhyun thinks, her face still round with baby fat. She's clutching Chanyeol's photocard so tightly it's probably going to have a permanent bend in it.

Chanyeol hesitates for a moment and then nods shyly, ducks his chin against his chest. The fan sticks her hand out, fingers trembling. A ripple of blue flame curls in her palm, winds up her wrist and disappears.

"Me, too."

"Oh, wow. You got blue? I'm jealous!" Chanyeol exclaims, genuinely intrigued. His apprehension disappears. He leans over the table for a closer look. Next to him, Kris pauses mid-autograph to watch the cobalt flare twist around her knuckles, mouth parted in a tentative half-smile. "Has it always been blue?"

"Yes."

He makes a disappointed clucking noise with his tongue before he glances up from under his eyebrows. "Want to trade?"

"Oppa! I would if I could!" she giggles.

"Ah, well. Maybe next time!"

Baekhyun's overcome with envy at the way Chanyeol talks about his power like it's no big deal. This part of being an idol's easy—he loves people. He's spent his entire life being labeled charismatic and a mood-maker, talks to anyone he comes across and genuinely enjoys it, too. But his power—it's always been something he's kept to himself. Before EXO, it was the one thing that set him apart from his classmates. And then, coming here, to SM—it was the one thing he had in common with the eleven other boys he lived with.

Now—it's not a secret anymore. Everyone knows. Everyone has access to the information about his status as an Unknowable, about his powers. It's scary as hell, like falling from an airplane without a parachute. Baekhyun wants to share this part of himself with the fans but he's not where Chanyeol is, not yet. There's going to have to be a lot more interactions like that before he feels safe to open up to complete strangers.

Baekhyun watches as Chanyeol autographs her album with a flourish, cheeks stretched back in one of his bright, manic smiles. "Take care of yourself," he says, handing the album back to her. She squeaks her thanks and bounces along the line to Kris.

"That was cool," Chanyeol murmurs, mostly to himself even though Baekhyun hears him from a few people away.

Baekhyun agrees. It's hard and it's terrifying and it's unpredictable—but he's coming around to the realization that it's also pretty fucking cool, too.


End file.
